


Could it be?

by tracionn



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Word Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/pseuds/tracionn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin lost a word game. Or did he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could it be?

**Author's Note:**

> Not a new work, just posting this now to my AO3.
> 
> Fill to a prompt on the Cabin Pressure prompt meme about chat up lines, see prompt here if you like:  
> http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6034.html?thread=9675154#cmt9675154
> 
> Thank you Tiwtin for the beta work!! All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. I insist.

**Could it be?**

Martin regretted it. Only two minutes into the game and already he regretted it.

_Why don’t I ever see the danger_ before _I agree?_

Two years working with the Sky God Richardson really should have taught him better, one thinks. Thinking, however, often seems to be a problem when said Sky God asks. Or speaks. Or rumbles. Or smiles. Or simply is, actually. 

“So, Martin, who do you think should get the entire cheese tray?” His first officer asked him with a smirk.

“Dddouglas,” Martin stammered.

“And who’s the best pilot under the sky? Or above as a matter of fact.”

Martin sighed but answered dutifully: “Douglas.”

Douglas' smirk grew wider and Martin began to squirm. 

“Who would you invite for dinner next Saturday?”

  _Ah danger, there you are._ Handling the yoke whilst being on autopilot suddenly became a very fascinating task.

“Ehrr…uhm…,” Martin tried to utter.

“Sir knows the rules, doesn’t he?” asked Douglas without having his smirk faltering the slightest bit. Martin could hear it in his voice. _God, his voice. Rich and low and deep and…Stop it!_

“D…Doug...Really, this game is ridiculous and I have no idea why I ever agreed. In the first place. And anyway, we have to fly a plane here and we should behave like the proper pilots we are!”

“Are you giving up? What a pity, I rather had the feeling saying my name becomes you more and more.”

If you only knew. I caress your name when I’m alone at night, I whisper it to the trees and I would happily shout it to stars. Damned, stop. It. NOW.

“Ha! You just want to hear your name again and again.”

“Wouldn’t argue that, quite the appeal of the game. But as I am the terrific self that I am, I will let you go after one last question. How does that sound to you?” Douglas purred. _Purred_ for Christ sake’s.

Martin rolled his eyes and fought a blush that tried to conquer his face. He gripped the yoke tighter and squeezed a “Fine, fine. Douglas,” through his lips.

He looked at Douglas and wouldn’t have thought that the smirk of his could possibly get any brighter. Wrong. And then he saw that Douglas’ smirk grew into a genuine smile and there was something in his eyes, a gleam, a hope? _God his eyes_! They spoke of… _no, it couldn’t be. Or could it?_

“Martin, you will certainly get your share of the cheese tray, and you should know by now – listen carefully – that I do think you are a good and very professional pilot. 

"However, there is something you are terribly lacking and this something is a certain terrificness in your life and at your side, not only in the flight deck and not only during duty hours, don’t you agree? And now please tell me - who would you want to provide you with that?”

_God. GodohGod. It could be_!

Martin inhaled deeply and this time he let the blush run through him without second thoughts before he turned fully to the man beside him and said loud and clear:

“Douglas.”

 


End file.
